People would call me a fool for him Yet nothing could take me away from my love He, my painter and muse, who never waivered Faithfully sipping red wine to the jazzy melodies He'd sit there and say to me, "Tell me another story my Rose Sing to me something sweet and take off my clothes And when it's all over, kiss me good bye and float to the moon Don't come back down till the 4th of June"